


Kisses are a better fate than wisdom

by liminalweirdo



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Drabble, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:01:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27489247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liminalweirdo/pseuds/liminalweirdo
Summary: Summer in the Barrens. A beesting. A kiss.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 8
Kudos: 39





	Kisses are a better fate than wisdom

**Author's Note:**

  * For [slowlimbs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slowlimbs/gifts).



> in response to slowlimbs's [And death i think is no parenthesis](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27454285)
> 
> Title is from _since feeling is first_ by e.e. cummings.

They’re fourteen, kneeling in the grass and the soft, dry earth of the Barrens as Eddie picks out a bee stinger that Richie ( _through no fault of my own!_ he kept shouting — the intensity of it indicating it was, entirely, his fault) has embedded in his palm.

Eddie, somehow, seems to know exactly what he’s doing, whereas Richie just immediately clapped his palm to his mouth to suck the stinger out (" _Suck the wound! get in there!"_ ) until Eddie started shouting at him not to.

He pulls it out and disposes of it and then, like a magician, pulls disinfectant spray out of his fucking fanny pack (Richie about falls over laughing), but then forces his face into something very solemn as Eddie puts it on ( _"D’ya think I’ll make it, doc?_ ).

But Eddie’s all wide-eyed, frightened rabbit, asking if he’s sure he’s not allergic and Richie’s been stung about seventeen times before, and he’s definitely not, but he doesn’t want Eddie to keep worrying either. He reaches out and cuffs his bare arm “I’m fine,” just under the sleeve of his t-shirt. He’s so warm and Richie lingers, just for a moment, fingertips grazing Eddie’s arm as he draws away. And inside himself somewhere he’s thinking _town’s full of a bunch of little fairies // you tryin’a bone my little cousin?_ but he shakes it off. Thinks vaguely about pretending to go into anaphylaxes but Eddie would probably literally have a heart attack, and it’s less funny when he’s genuinely scared. It’s kind of not funny at all, actually.

He looks up and refocuses — he’s going to need new glasses soon. Again. His mom’s going to be pissed — and Eddie’s looking at him with this expression that Richie can’t read so he smiles at him, but it wavers, half confusion—

And then Eds leans forward and kisses him. Like proper. Right on the lips. Richie’s eyes go wide behind his glasses and he doesn’t know where to put his hands so he aims for his own thighs, knees in the dirt, and misses, and that pitches him into Eddie harder. He makes this tiny little sound, shock — at the kiss or feeling like he’s falling he isn’t sure — lips parting against Eds’.

For a half second, it’s a real kiss. He feels the wet line of Eddie’s lower lip and Richie’s heart squeezes in his chest. They draw back as one. Richie’s holding his stung hand close to his chest, in a loose fist, the other hand is pressed into dry grass near Eddie’s knee. He sits up straighter, swallows, and god, for a second it’s _oh no oh shit oh no_ but then Eddie looks at him. Without judgement. Looks at him like he’s scared, too.

Richie takes in a little breath, feeling his lips twitch. He licks them — _oh_ — swallows, then smiles. It bursts over his face like sunrise, like light on water. His heart, he thinks, has never beat so fast. Not for something good. It’s overwhelming; way too much. He thinks fast, or maybe doesn’t think at all, and thrusts his injured hand into Eddie’s face. “Gonna kiss that better, too?” he asks, but he’s already climbing to his feet because if Eddie did Richie thinks he might die. 

Like a blessing or a curse, Eddie’s watch goes off. Time to go home, so Richie reaches down to him, to help him to his feet. They’re awfully far from home, he thinks, so he says “Race you,” because his cheeks are burning and his heart is racing and he feels alive, alive, alive. He needs to do something living.

So he runs. He laughs, wildly, into the wind.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr!  
> [ **liminalweirdo**](https://liminalweirdo.tumblr.com/)


End file.
